


What Really Matters

by GulJeri



Category: Deep Space Nine, ds9 - Fandom
Genre: Kanar, Tains basement, delete scene, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GulJeri/pseuds/GulJeri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I read that there was a deleted scene where Garak, Damar, and Kira, get drunk in Tain's basement.</p><p>Here's my take on it. :P</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Really Matters

The basement was a dismal place to be. The tatters of the rebellion hiding away, doing nothing. Garak was reminded of his childhood nickname; _sleg_ after the sleg corgan, a large Cardassian animal that spent certain seasons almost completely motionless.

That's what they all were; a bunch of useless  _slegs._

Garak remembered when he'd been exiled to Deep Space Nine—still Terok Nor at the time. Oh, he thought he had hit rock bottom then, when he'd been introduced to a moldering pile of rags that was to be his _tailors_ shop of all things. He'd started abusing his wire just to get through each day, and how he wished he could still feel that lie of pleasure now when everything was coming down in ruins.

He watched as Damar opened a bottle of kanar and took a long swig.

“You do plan to share that, don't you?” Garak asked, tilting his head to watch the spiral-shaped bottle glimmer in the dim light.

“I don't usually share my kanar... but under such circumstances...” Damar held the bottle out in offering, though he had a look on his face that was almost pouty.

Garak accepted gratefully, and tossed back a swallow or two. He closed his eyes and savored the way the liquid warmed his throat and belly. Damar's hand brushed his as the other Cardassian reclaimed the bottle.

“Do you two _really_ think this is a time to be drinking?” Kira asked incredulously.

She came to stand in front of the two men who were sitting, their shoulders almost touching. She placed her hands on her hips.

“What else?” Damar asked blandly.

“Why don't you join us, Colonel?” Garak asked.

Damar had passed the bottle back to Garak, and Garak tilted it towards her.

“No thanks,” Kira said abruptly, shifting her weight, looking towards the stairs, as if they held some answer.

“That's fine—more for us,” Damar said, and then added in a taunting way, “you probably couldn't handle a Cardassian drink anyway.”

“You think I couldn't handle a few shots of kanar?” Kira let out a high pitched laugh of disbelief.

Damar had another swallow.

“Let's see,” he said, offering the bottle again.

“Oh this is... this is ridiculous...” Kira stared down at the offered bottle, sighed, and took it. Her eyes met Damar's with defiance and she pressed the bottle to her lips, and took a long pull, and handed the bottle back to him without even grimacing.

“Not bad at all!” Garak said, sounding like he might just be impressed.

“We'll be out before long at this rate,” Damar said, holding the bottle up to the dull light. It was already more empty than full.

“Mila probably has a bottle or two stashed away. I'll go upstairs and check. Don't you two have too much fun without me,” Garak said, and headed up the stairs.

Kira sat down in the spot next to Damar where Garak had been.

The two of them traded the bottle back and forth.

“What's the point of all this?” Kira asked, handing the bottle back to Damar and wiping her mouth on the cuff of her uniform.

Damar snorted.

“You tell me. All I know is I'd rather die drunk than sober,” Damar said.

His lips did that pouty thing again before he took another drink and drained their bottle.

Garak returned just in time with a small cheer of triumph.

“A few bottles stashed away indeed!” Garak sat down next to Kira, so she was between the two Cardassians.

He had brought three more bottles of kanar to the basement, and the three of them were all too happy to work on demolishing them.

They were passing around the last bottle. Garak lifted his hand to pass to Kira, and it felt like he was trying to lift the entire Cardassian Union. He blinked slowly, and realized for the first time how blurry everything seemed to be.

“Someones fuzzled the room,” he muttered.

Kira's head was on his shoulder. She took another drink of kanar, though half of it slopped over her chin and onto Garak's shirt.

“Someones fuzzled the world,” Damar said, reaching for the bottle as Kira held it out to him. He missed and had to try again, and Kira began to laugh uncontrollably. Then Damar, and then Garak.

They just laughed, and laughed, the basement full of it until they couldn't breathe.

“This is—this is--” Kira was struggling to breathe, to think, to make words, “we're _so_ drunk.”

“Just another day in my life,” Damar said.

“We're _very_ drunk, my dear,” Garak added, as he attempted to keep Kira from sliding down onto his lap.

He propped her against Damar.

“I guess I was wrong, Colonel,” Damar hissed, his hot breath hitting Kira in the face, “you can hold your kanar with the best of them.”

“I can, can't I,” she patted Damar's chest in a way that was almost affectionate.

“It's all so strange, isn't it?” Damar mused, “you here helping us, the Cardassian rebellion...”

“Some rebellion,” Garak groaned, pressing two fingers to the side of his head.

“A Bajoran,” Damar continued, “helping the Cardassian rebellion. Why, Major?”

The question hung in the air.

Kira seemed to be watching it hang there. It took her a few moments to answer, but when she did, she was very solemn.

“It's what I do. I fight for the oppressed,” she said, turning her head slowly, to watch Damar.

“And the scales...” Damar's eyes caught hers, and he had gone just as somber, as they gazed at each other with understanding, “they don't matter?”

Kira lifted her hand, and gently placed it against the side of Damar's face. Her fingers trailed over the ridges that swept down from his ear and along his jaw.

“No...” she breathed, “they don't.”

For a moment there was breathless silence between them, their gazes still locked, Kira's hand still cradling Damar's scaled jaw.

“Aaaaalright...” Garak stumbled up to his feet, knelt (nearly fell onto them), and took the bottle of kanar that was toppled over between Kira and Damar, “I think we've all had _quite_ enough.”

That seemed to snap Kira and Damar out of it.

“Why don't we... get some rest... and perhaps we'll feel... different in the morning,” Garak suggested, as he clumsily gathered the empty kanar bottles and placed them on the bottom stair.

“Oh, we'll feel different,” Damar said, rising to his feet, and offering a hand to help Kira, “but not better.”

 

 


End file.
